tting or of
running on shore. In this way she drove quite through the highlands,
until she had passed Pollopol's Island, where, it is said, the
jurisdiction of the Dunderberg potentate ceases. No sooner had she
passed this bourne, than the little hat, all at once, spun up into the
air like a top, whirled up all the clouds into a vortex, and hurried
them back to the summit of the Dunderberg, while the sloop righted
herself, and sailed on as quietly as if in a mill-pond. Nothing saved
her from utter wreck, but the fortunate circumstance of having a
horse-shoe nailed against the mast--a wise precaution against evil
spirits, which has since been adopted by all the Dutch captains that
navigate this haunted river.

[Footnote 16: i.e., the "Thunder-Mountain," so called from its echoes.]

There is another story told of this foul-weather urchin, by Skipper
Daniel Ouslesticker, of Fish-Hill, who was never known to tell a lie.
He declared, that, in a severe squall, he saw him seated astride of
his bowsprit, riding the sloop ashore, full butt against Antony's
Nose; and that he was exorcised by Dominie Van Gieson, of Esopus, who
happened to be on board, and who sung the hymn of St. Nicholas;
whereupon the goblin threw himself up in the air like a ball, and went
off in a whirlwind, carrying away with him the nightcap of the
Dominie's wife; which was discovered the next Sunday morning hanging
on the weather-cock of Esopus church steeple, at least forty miles
off! After several events of this kind had taken place, the regular
skippers of the river, for a long time, did not venture to pass the
Dunderberg, without lowering their peaks, out of homage to the Heer of
the mountain; and it was observed that all such as paid this tribute
of respect were suffered to pass unmolested.[17]

[Footnote 17: Among the superstitions which prevailed in the colonies
during the early times of the settlements, there seems to have been a
singular one about phantom ships. The superstitious fancies of men are
always apt to turn upon those objects which concern their daily
occupations. The solitary ship, which, from year to year, came like a
raven in the wilderness, bringing to the inhabitants of a settlement
the comforts of life from the world from which they were cut off, was
apt to be present to their dreams, whether sleeping or waking. The
accidental sight from shore, of a sail gliding along the horizon, in
those, as yet, lonely seas, was apt to be a ma